


You Kiss Me Once, I'll Hit You Back

by paperficwriter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperficwriter/pseuds/paperficwriter
Summary: The prompt: "A kiss never given" and "a supernatural kiss." A dream come true, right?





	You Kiss Me Once, I'll Hit You Back

When Reaper opened his eyes, he immediately closed them again. Tighter. When he looked again, he’d be back in the Talon base, under the bright lights of the medical center where he had been put under. But then he opened them again, and he was…

No, this couldn’t be right.

He looked around at the pristine halls of the Overwatch HQ, something that no longer existed. A dream? Yes. Of course. It had to be a dream. But when he reached out and touched the window overlooking the mountainous Swiss landscape beyond, it felt…cold. Biting. So very, very real. Touching the warm, worn, scarred skin of Gabriel Reyes. A man he hadn’t been since…

“Gabe? You coming or what?”

It took him a moment to look up, to even respond to that name, and when he did…Jack. Young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, smiling Jack. Pressed uniform, shining boots, clipboard in hand. Those hands. Hands that had been gripping his throat, that had reared back and punched him twice before throwing him against the panel and –

“Gabe? You okay? You’re weirding me out.”

The hallway felt like it was going to swallow him whole. That it already had. And they were alone and…

The clipboard slapped against the ground as he moved in, staring into that stupidly perfect face, and he had thought he was going to grab him and heave him through the window but instead…what were dreams for, if not to fill in gaps? Things that should have been. Things that would have been better, maybe.

And it was still all too real, the softness of Jack’s lips, a faint taste of mint, and when he swiped his tongue just slightly, the hitched gasp, and pale fingers grabbing his arms and —

Reaper - no, Gabe - had to break the kiss, because his conscious mind was pulling at him, from another time and place, like getting stitches when the skin is numb. Tugging. He could tell he was getting farther away now, Jack’s face becoming more distant, like it was at the end of a tunnel.

“I’m sorry,” Gabe said, the last thing he could do before Reaper awoke again in the med bay.

—

Jack’s lips are still tingling. “You’re sorry? What? I mean…where did…” He’s still trying to parse this together: Gabe just kissed him. Gabriel Reyes. And now, Gabe’s shaking his head like he’s just gotten woken up from a nap, blinking rapidly.

“Jack, the fuck –” he starts, then seems to notice the way Jack’s fingers are buried in his jacket sleeves. He shakes his arms, a snap of motion that forces Jack to let go. “I thought we were going to a briefing.”

“I did too! Until you started making out with me in the middle of the hallway!” He doesn’t mean to sound angry, but it’s hard not to. He’s confused. Disoriented. He wants answers and explanations and…whatever else. He needs Gabe to say something.

“I wasn’t making out with you!” When Gabe says it, he laughs, half bitter in his throat, while he snatches the clipboard off the ground and pushes it into his chest. “Let’s go, boyscout.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell you were thinking just now!”

“What?! I fucking zoned out for a second. Are you seriously going to give me shit about it?”

“Is that all you have to say? That you zoned out?” Jack’s snarling now, because it’s his gut reaction to the pain in his chest. He’s never hated Gabe more than in this moment, when he’s shouldering past him towards the briefing room, not even looking back at him. “Fucking typical Reyes, who always runs instead of having a goddamned conversation!”

“Only when I don’t have anything to say,” Gabe retorts over his shoulder. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re mouthy enough for both of us.”

When they finally get into the room, nobody asks about the bruise forming under Gabe’s eye or Jack’s nose, which he constantly wipes at with a black kerchief to catch the steady stream of blood until it finally stops. His mouth tastes like copper and bile, and he’s glad for it, so it’s harder to recall the minute of blissful abandon that had brought everything to a halt.


End file.
